


What We Saw From the Cheap Seats

by TheSmallestThings



Series: We Fall Apart Slowly [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (I feel horrible about it but it's happening anyways), Aftermath of Torture, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Bullying, Character Death, Depression, Engineering is Fun, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Group dynamics, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kinda, Look I swear it's not all bad, Medical Torture, Multi, Nightmares, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Torture, Peer Pressure, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Precious Peter Parker, Recovery, Redemption, Science Bros, Self-Harm, Sensory Overload, Suicidal Thoughts, Teen Parties SUCK, Tony is good dad, Torture, Underage Drinking, hangovers, he's not exactly sure how to do this 'parenting' thing, mental breakdowns, someone help him, theres some fluff in there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-01-16 02:45:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12333855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSmallestThings/pseuds/TheSmallestThings
Summary: Peter's life was good. But now it's falling apart, and Lord knows that he's not going to be able to make it alone. He needs someone in his corner to cheer him on. Lucky for him, he's got an iron-clad father figure, an entire team of superheros, and a morally (and psychologically) questionable mercenary on his side.None of them know what they're doing, but they're trying their best, and that's all he needs right now.





	1. Chapter 1: Standing

When May first found out, she was not happy. Well, who would be after finding out their nephew had been running around and almost getting himself killed on a daily for almost a year? So yeah, she was pretty upset.

But, of course, that wasn’t where it ended for Peter. No, he was banned from being Spiderman indefinitely and he was ‘grounded for the rest of his life’ according to May. Normally he would’ve spoken up, argued that that was a bit extreme, but the look on her face stopped any of those thoughts from ever leaving his mouth, catching in his throat at the disappointment present in her eyes.

And it sucked, not being able to help people, but he didn’t dare disobey May, she’d already been through enough as it was and honestly, he felt like he deserved it after all the lies he had told her. But it wasn’t until almost a week later when May came to his room holding a bag, looking unsure for the first time in a long time, that things started to feel normal again. She gently handed it to him, biting her lip, eyes trained on his confused face.

“Pete, I talked to Mr Stark.”

“You- you did?”

She nodded, gesturing to the bag, “Open it.”

His heart seemed to race as he cautiously opened it, the bright blue and red hitting him like a truck, “Oh my god— May are you for real? You’re serious!?”

“Well, we talked— actually I yelled and he took it— but he was able to do some convincing. So we decided that you could continue doing your thing—“

“May thank you so much—“

“Hold on. You’ve got to follow some rules now, or we're back to stage one.”

“Yeah! Yeah, okay! I can do that!”

He was elated and she was... still worried. But not as worried. It was just 5 simple rules and Peter pretty much followed them well, and slowly May grew to trust him again.

Rule 1: Peter had a curfew now. 2 am unless there was an emergency that he needed to handle, and if that happened he needed to call May and Tony and tell them how long it would take.

That one worked pretty well, Karen made sure to alert him of his curfew before he went over and he always called if there was an issue. So rule one worked amazingly.

Rule 2: Any injury, no matter how small, was to be reported to May and Tony. Even if it was just a paper cut, he needed to tell them. 

May hadn’t realized how much he got hurt until he seemed to be listing off all of his injuries before he went to school everyday, detailing which healed already and which hadn’t. She couldn’t help but be stressed about him every night, and if it wasn’t for his fast healing, she wouldn’t have allowed him to keep going out. So rule two? A little harder to deal with.

Rule 3: If he was in over his head, he need to get help from Tony or stop while he still could. No repeats of the elevator incident. Or the ferry incident. Or the plane incident.

This was the one he seemed to have the most trouble with. He never seemed to know when he needed help, always too determined to do it by himself. He’d come back all bruised up, insisting that everything was fine and that he had it handled. There were the few times he actually did get some help, those those were few and far between. Yeah, rule three was stressing her out.

Rule 4: Grades mattered more than web-slinging. If his grades started to slip, he was banned from web slinging until they went back up and _stayed_ up.

Now rule four was one that Peter could do well. It seemed like it wasn’t the drain of being Spiderman that had made his grades drop, but the stress of hiding it from May for so long. All in all, his grades were good and he kept them like that. 

And finally, rule 5: No matter what happened, Peter was to remember how much they cared about him. May needed to make sure Peter knew that he meant everything to her, and that no matter what happened, she loved him and cared about him more than he could imagine.

With all of Peter’s self doubt, May needed him to know that he was enough, that no matter what happened, she was there for him. She was there when he saved everyone. And when he couldn’t. 

She was there to cheer him on at his highest and bring him up at his lowest. And now, without the veil of secrecy between them, things were okay. Better than okay.

Things were amazing. 

But as all people will eventually learn in life, good things don’t last.

It was going on six months later, after a particularly successful fight that everything started to go downhill far too fast.

It didn’t start badly. Peter was busy fighting this… blob… monster… thing (in his own words) in downtown Queens and some news station had found out and well… The entire fight was on the news. So of course May watched the entire broadcast on the edge of her seat, nails digging crescent moons into the palm of her hand. For every slip she gasped, for every success she cheered. It was nerve-wracking up until the point where Pete finally subdued the creature and its creator, the people watching cheering with May at his win. Her kid must’ve learned how to deal with reporters from Tony, his only response before he swung away being a very vocal ‘no comment’ to all the questions that were thrown at him. 

Then it was just May was waiting for him to get home with open arms, standing, then sitting, before standing again. Her heart stopped for a second before the door opened, revealing a weary and bruised Peter, a small smile gracing his face as he caught her eye. She pulled him into a hug, holding back her tears and rubbing a hand over his back.

“Hi Aunt May…” He smiled, leaning against her.

“Oh, Peter. You did so good out there… I am so, so proud of you bud.” She pulled back, looking over him with a frown, “What’s the damage?” She tallied off all the injuries as he said them, checking him over worriedly.

“Um… Black eye… Few cuts and I think a broken rib or two?” He laughed, “I think I dislocated my shoulder, but I reset it as soon as I could.”

She ran a thumb over his black eye, shaking her head as he flinched away, “Is that all?”

“I think so… Far as I can tell at least.”

“Good.” She sighed, “Good. Pete, I don’t tell you enough, but you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, alright? Don’t forget that.”

He grinned, “I won’t-- I mean, I don’t. I don’t ever forget that. I love you May.”

“Love you too you little rascal,” She ruffled his hair, gently pulling him against her side, “Now go get changed, we’re heading out.”

He backed into his room, nodding happily, “Yeah, sure. Where are we going?”

“You’ll find out when we get there. Be quick!”

The door closed and she plopped onto the couch again, smile still fresh on her lips. Her phone pinged and she snatched it out to check it, smiling when she noticed the name on it.

 **Tony:** Make sure to talk to the kid for me. Tell him that he did great today.

She smiled, texting back a quick ‘will do’ before glancing over to Peter’s door, where he stood with a raised eyebrow.

“Who’re you texting?” He made his way over, oversized hoodie draping over his small frame and making him look even smaller.

She chuckled, holding it up, “Mr. Stark. He wanted me to tell you that he said that you did great today. Don’t know why he couldn’t tell you himself, but whatever. Are you ready to go buddy?”

He nodded, helping her up gently before opening the door for her, “Yeah. Can I know where we’re going now?”

“Dinner.”

“This late? I thought you hated going out after dark?”

“I do, but it’s a special occasion.”

They made their way down the stairs of the apartment building and keeping up a fairly steady conversation, Peter asking about her work day and trying to avoid the inevitable babying that was bound to happen when she finally could clean his cuts and hug him till his ribs bruised. Okay, maybe not that hard, but definitely for a while.

“So where are we going? Thai?” They had passed the first street lamp and he was starting to recognize the route, familiar after so long.

“Yup. You know, it seriously must be in your genes to like Thai this much, your dad was crazy about it, Ben was addicted to it,” She rolled her eyes, “There’s gotta be some link there to be in love with Thai food this much, it’s insane.”

He let out a laugh, stuffing his hands in his pocket and fidgeting with his web-shooters absentmindedly, “I’ll have to do my next science fair project on that, see if I can find an actual link.”

His laugh was rare and contagious, spreading to May quickly. They talked about whatever came to mind, glancing up at the stars every few minutes. It wasn’t until they had just passed halfway that Peter had that sick butterfly feeling in his stomach, hairs standing on end.

He went shock still, eyes looking for the source of the danger. The only thing he could see was a couple walking on the opposite side of the street and a car slowly driving down the road, the tinted windows rolled halfway down. He turned to her as she grabbed his shoulder, confusion evident in her face.

“Sorry-- sorry May. Dunno what’s up with me.”

She smiled softly, “It’s okay, probably still running on that high from earlier--”

A bang rang out and the car raced away, tire screeching. It took almost thirty seconds for the gunshot to register, May’s eyes widening in shock as a splotch of red began to blossom out from her yellow top, catching his eyes in surprise.

“Pete--”

He felt a scream bubble up and then die in his throat, catching her as she collapsed. His shaking hands found their way to the wound, tears already forming. The couple across the street had noticed now, rushing across the street and taking out their phones.

The sob finally ripped out of his throat, seeming to echo down the road that seemed far too quiet, “Help! Oh God, please, please someone help!” 

The man had rushed over, balling up his jacket and taking Peter’s place, “Kid, do me a favor. Keep her awake for me. I’m an off duty paramedic, I just need you to talk to her-- Mia, what’s going on?”

His girlfriend was frantically talking on the phone, kneeling down next to him and telling him the ETA for the ambulance.

Peter was focused on May. He couldn’t let someone else in his life die because he couldn’t save them. He couldn’t. He reached out before pulling away, hands bloodstained and unable to still.

“May? May come on, talk to me. Please talk to me.”

“P-pete… Jesus, I’m so- I’m so sorry that--”

“No. No, don’t be sorry, just talk to me, stay with me, it’s gonna be okay. There’s an ambulance coming and you’re going to be okay. Just stay with me. Talk to me.”

“Peter, I-- I’m so, so proud of you. Okay? Remember that. I am s-so proud of you. And Ben- Ben would be so proud of you and-- Petey, if Rich and Mary could see you now… They would be so happy to have a boy as s-strong as you… I love you Pete. I do. D-don’t forget that. Don’t forget how much we love you…”

He could feel his tears hitting the ground, lip trembling as he took her hand and held it tightly, “No. Don’t do that. Don’t do this to me. May! May please…” Her eyes had started to close and he began to shake her, the sound of the sirens closer but not close enough.

She started to drift and her hand gave his one more squeeze before it went still, the panicked voices of the couple trying to get his attention slowly getting quieter, just like the sirens. His world was spinning and he felt numb, sitting back and letting his eyesight blur. 

That’s when everything began to fly by: the paramedics taking her, the ambulance ride, the sitting in the waiting room. Everything flew by like he was in a train, all the landscape around him rushing by and blurring together into one big… mess.

He didn’t notice when the surgeons were apologizing, asking if there was someone they could call. Didn’t notice when he made his way into her room, wanting to see her one last time. Didn’t notice when he slowly and calmly pulled out his phone, fingers finding their way to the familiar number, now tainted with a sour taste, silent tears back to falling down his face. His world was falling apart and there was nothing he could do about it.


	2. Chapter 2: Tripping

The call came in at three in the morning. Happy had called Tony in a panic, stress evident in his tightened voice.

The infliction of the words that came through the phone was wide awake despite how early it was, “Hey, um, Boss, I’m really sorry to wake you up so early but--”

Tony sighed, glaring at the time before sitting up and getting out of bed with a glare at the clock, “What is it Happy? It’s three in the morning--”

“It’s about Peter.”

Tony was suddenly wide awake, “What about him? Is he okay?”

“Well, sir, he’s not seriously hurt if that’s what you mean,” Tony sighed in relief, “but--”

“But?”

“Sir his Aunt May… She… Passed away tonight. Drive-by shooting.”

“What?! What happened?”

“Went out to get some food with Peter, got caught at the wrong place and wrong time. Kid’s blaming himself for it. They're thinking it was some sort of gang initiation.”

Tony rushed to get on a jacket, struggling to get both arms in before giving up,  
“Where’s Peter at?”

Happy listed out the hospital and room number, warning him that Peter wasn’t doing great, “Sir, I’m outside the room now, but so is a social worker, do you want me to tell her anything?”

“No. Listen, I’ll be there in a few minutes, just make sure the kid’s okay.” Tony hung up and made his way to the hospital as quick as he could. As he arrived he pushed his way to the room Peter was in. A nurse attempted to stop him, but he shrugged her off, making it known that he wasn't there to cause trouble. Happy looked relieved as he walked by, making a hurried gesture to the social worker.

The older woman looked over Tony with a shocked expression, words failing her for a second before she spoke up, “Sir, I’m sorry, but I can’t allow you--”

“Listen, ma’am. I understand that this is your job, but I’ve been mentoring this kid for almost a year now, and I will do what it takes to take care of him. But right now, I’m gonna be here for him, and that’s not your choice to make. I’ll sign off the temporary guardian forms when I get the chance.”

“Mr Stark--”

“If you have any problems you can call my lawyers, but right now I’m going to talk to the kid and _you_ are not going to stop me.”

The woman just stood in silent awe as Tony strode into the hospital room like he owned the place, which, technically speaking, he kind of did. In the room he found a small and broken looking Peter, his eyes red and his whole body shaking without tears. He wanted to speak up but it felt wrong, seeing the kid draped over his dead aunt’s body was something he wished he'd never have to see. It reminded him of himself back when... He felt himself break a little more at the memory.

“It’s my fault Mr. Stark… She’s gone and I couldn't save her and it’s my fault.” Peter didn’t even look up, just spoke quietly, as though it was already decided long ago.

“Peter, look at me. It’s not-- it’s not your fault--”

“Yes, it is! It is my fault! It’s all my fault! And you wouldn’t understand! Because you don’t cause the deaths of everyone you care about! And now she’s dead, just like my Uncle, just like my parents! Just like everyone else I care about! I've got nobody left.” The softness of his voice at the last sentence proved the suspicion Tony had already had: Peter was just now realizing there was no one else to turn to. No more family. He was the last of the Parkers.

Normally Tony would have chastised him for beating himself up over something that wasn't his fault, but he couldn't help but realize how hard he was taking it, how much he needed to get it out. The kid had a good reason to be angry, to be sad. He’d just lost his Aunt, his last living relative. He felt alone in the world. And shit, did Tony know that feeling and for Gods sake, Peter was allowed to be pissed. Peter looked up to Tony and finally collapsed in on himself. He had no more tears but he still sobbed, muttering unintelligible words into Tony’s chest as he was brought into a numb hug.

"Don't take me away from her. Don't make me leave her-- P-please. She's all I've got left don't-- don't make me leave..."

“I'm not going to make you leave--" He sighed, holding back tears of his own as he held Peter, "Ok kid. I know this sucks, but you’re gonna need to stay with me, ok?” Tony felt Peter nod against him as he continued, “I’m gonna have Happy get your stuff from your apartment, yeah? Is that alright with you?” Another nod. God, Tony could physically feel the same pain Pete was in, forgotten memories resurfacing to taunt him.

Tony eased Peter up from the bed, pulling an arm around him and slowly walking him out of the room while still keeping him at his side. He looked over at Happy, nodding towards the door and tossing him the keys. It was a mutual understanding between them at this point, start the car and head home. They ignored the protests of the social worker and walked out to the car, Tony setting the tired Peter in the backseat and setting a route to the compound before sitting down next to him. 

He needed to get some things sorted out with this. Funeral planning, finding a place for the kid to stay, keeping him out of the foster care system. Not to mention that he needed to tell Pepper and Steve what was going on and-- He shook his head, trying to clear it. His focus needed to be on the kid right now. He could worry about all the other stuff later. He looked over to see Peter staring out the window, eyes puffy and tear stains down his cheeks.

Tony needed to text people but he needed to check up on Peter more. He couldn’t help it, he was worrying about him and he didn’t know how to help. He wished he didn't know exactly how Peter felt, but he noticed a tugging at his chest. Empathy, or compassion, or some other bullshit emotion that he rarely had the pleasure--  
or displeasure-- of experiencing. He put an arm back around the kid and sent a text to Steve, hoping he was up. 

Lucky for him, it would seem he wasn't the only one awake at ungodly hours in the morning. Steve responded less than a minute later with a series of texts, clearly worried about the kid, asking Tony to tell him any way he could help. Things had been shaky since the Accords but they were working it out, thanks to the kid's insisting that they needed to. Steve was almost as close to the Peter as he was, making sure he ate enough and got some training in anytime he stopped by the compound. 

Taking his eyes off of the shaking Peter for just a moment, Tony asked Steve to tell the others that Pete would be there for a while. He told him he'd fill him in on the rest later. He didn't know how much later, but he hoped he'd have the mess sorted out by then.

Tony gently nudged Peter, trying to get his attention without disturbing him. Peter said nothing though, only curled in tighter on himself, more tears slipping out as he squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his head on the cool window. He was clearly exhausted, and Tony couldn’t blame him, no one his age- hell, no one at all- should have to deal with what he was going through.

“Get some rest, kiddo.” Tony muttered, giving Peter’s shoulder a small squeeze before glancing out his own window at the lights dashing past them.

He planned to do what it took to help Pete, even if it meant personally adopting the kid himself. Peter needed a family, and if nothing else, Tony was prepared to at least give him that. He knew he would be a shitty father, if his bastard dad was any example, but he would try anyways if he had to, and if he did, he planned to get help along the way.

Still, his brain kept shoving his therapist's words from earlier that day at him like he needed it, like it was wanted. He had always blown it off as a dumb way to calm him down but now he was starting to feel like he needed it more than ever. Peter was going to need it more than ever:

_Things are not okay right now, but they will be. Things are hard now, but they will get easier. Good things come slowly and with time, if you only have the patience._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUN FACT! I actually have to repeat that to myself all the time. And it works? It's weird. Depression sucks slightly less once you accept that statement. Anyways, thanks for all the Kudos and Comments, feel free to keep leaving them, it keeps me writing. Hope you're enjoying! Be ready for some extreme Peter love bc my child needs a little happiness after this mess.


	3. Chapter 3: Falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so so so so so sooooooo goddamn sorry about the wait you guys. Shit kept coming up and then I had a bad writer's block for a while and honestly, it's kinda a fucking mess.
> 
> BUT! I am on a break from classes and so I have a lot more freetime in which I PROMISE I am going to write more chapters.
> 
> Please please PLEASE leave comments and kudos, you have no idea how much I appreciate them. <33333
> 
> Enjoy, darlings!

When they finally got to the compound, Steve was waiting for them in the garage, locking eyes with Tony as he climbed out of the car. His eyes caught on Peter, still in the car, apparently asleep from all the stress of the day. 

He was quiet as he spoke, raising his voice only enough to be heard, “Do you want me to get him and take him to his room or…?”

“Yeah… Yeah. That would… that would be good.” 

So he did. Tony was, for once, silent the entire time, staring absentmindedly in front of him. He looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack as he closed his eyes to take a few deep breaths, leaning against the wall as they got to Peter’s room. He had no idea what he was doing. The realization hit him like a truck and he couldn’t breathe for a second, the thoughts crushing his lungs. He knew he needed to snap out of it, but it was hard. Desperately, he tried to let his mind wander.

_It was the beginning of summer, school had just gotten out, and Peter… still didn’t know what he was doing. It would have been funny watching him grin through his bruises if it wasn’t so sad. He seemed to not know how to even block a punch and there he was, going out every night and seemingly actively attempting to get himself killed. So Tony confronted him._

_“You’re getting training.”_

_Okay, maybe not the best way to put it as soon as the kid walked in, but at least it got to the point._

_“...what?” He looked confused, still holding onto his bag as he stood in the doorway._

_“You heard me. I’m sick of seeing your statistics every night and having to tally up the injuries. You are going to learn self-defense. I don’t care how long it takes.” He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed as he waited for a response._

_“But I’m— Mr Stark! I’m fine! I’ve got it under control, it’s not a big deal ‘cause I can heal up really quick, remember?“_

_“Fast healing or not, you have no idea how to block a punch. Which is- I don’t know- kind of important in fighting.” He sighed, “Look, I know you think you’re invincible, but the truth is, it would really help me to not have a heart attack if you did this. So could you please? For my health?”_

_“I…” He put down his bag, messing with the edge of his sleeve while he thought. With a huff, he responded, “If that’s what you want me to do then I’ll do it. But I have to get home on time or May will kill me.”_

_He chuckled, uncrossing his arms and silently celebrating success, “That won’t be a problem. I’ll just call her if you’re staying late. Hell, you can stay the night if you need to, I’m sure we have an extra room.”_

_His eyes widened in shock for a second, before he sputtered out a response, “R-really? Are you sure? ‘Cause I don’t want to be a bother by being here too often and—“_

_He cut him off, “Kid. It’s fine. Anyways, if you choose to work late on a project Happy won’t complain about having to take you home. It’s a win-win.”_

_Peter nodded slowly, raising his shoulders into a shrug, “So… you wanted to show me the new designs?”_

Steve stepped out with a frown, closing the door gently behind him, “He’s asleep. Now what the hell is going on, Tony?”

He took a deep breath, looking up from the point on the floor that he had been fixated on, “Peter’s going to be staying here for a little while. I don’t know how long yet.”

A touch of frustration creeped into his voice, but it kept steady, “Okay, yeah, I got that, but _why_? What happened?”

“You remember how he lives with his Aunt? She picked him up a couple times.”

He nodded, “Of course. She seemed pretty nice, What about it?” A look of realization crossed his face, “Did something happen to her?”

“Yeah,” his hand shook as he ran it through his hair, “Yeah. Something happened. And I’m going to be completely honest- I don’t know what to do.”

“Does he have any other family—“

“No.” The tense silence that held was mind-numbing, intolerable if only due to the content it held. 

Tony broke it first by speaking again, voice low and full of conviction, “He’s not going in the foster care system. I’m not going to allow that. I don’t care if I have to adopt him myself- he’s not going into foster care.”

“Tony…”

“No, Rogers. That’s not going to happen. He is a good kid, and I don’t know if you’ve heard about the horror stories these days, but I am _not okay_ with letting that shit happen to him. And it will.”

Steve opened his mouth to speak again and was cut off, “ _It will_. You want to know how I know that for a fact? Because Peter, as amazing as a kid as he is, has powers. And those foster parents won’t be able to see that he’s fantastic through that, so either they’re going to toss him off to _yet another_ home, or they’re going to try to beat it out of him. Steven, I don’t know about you, but I don’t want either of those to happen.”

“You know I don’t.” He sighed, “I’m just trying to figure out your plan, because so far, I’m not seeing one.”

“I don’t need a plan. I’ll figure it out.”

“Yes. You do. This isn’t all about you, this is about Peter too. You can’t just roll the dice and hope for the best!” He hissed it out, reaching for him and stopping when he flinched away.

“I know.”

The words were whispered, and the worry that laced them caused Steve’s chest to seize up with guilt, hands falling to his side.

“I’m sorry,” His hand at his side clenched into a fist as he looked away, “We’ll… we’ll figure it out. We’re in this together now, right?”

“Sure.”

Steve hated this. The tension between them, the lingering unease that just _would not shake_. It hurt. Knowing he caused it. Knowing he couldn’t fix it.

The two of them stood in silence for a moment before the conversation resumed, the lull in it uncomfortable but not uncommon these days.

“Are you going to tell the team now or are you going to wait?” The duo continued walking towards the elevator, the constant furrow between the Captain’s brows deepening as Tony retreated to the opposite corner of the car, typing away at his phone.

“I’ll tell them in the morning. I have to get some stuff sorted out and talk to my lawyers about the guardianship papers.” He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his already messy hair and biting at his lip.

And god, Steve couldn’t describe how much he wanted to help, to calm him down, to tell him everything was going to be okay. But before he could say a thing, they had reached Tony’s floor and he swept out without a glance behind him.

Another time, he promised himself, he would talk to him, but not today.

 

Tony’s hand shook indiscriminately as he shuffled through his desk drawers in his room, carefully withdrawing the delicate paperwork stored in the locked and, well, _everything_ -proofed drawer. There lay the papers that signified the final requests of May Parker, the ones that he never thought would actually need to be carried out, had only accepted under the reasonable assumption that nothing detailed would ever happen.

Disappointment and despair had become such a commonality in his line of work, that he should have known by now to expect the unexpected, no matter how much he didn’t want to consider it.

Now here he was, scrubbing at his eyes as his vision burned at the sight of the black ink neatly typed on white legal paper. He let his eyes scan the document once more, worrying his lip as he allowed the words to sink in.

_By request of May Elizabeth Parker, this document is to hereby signify, in the case of any circumstances rendering Mrs. Parker unable to continue to care for her nephew Peter Benjamin Parker, legal guardianship of said minor should be transferred over to family friend, Anthony Edward Stark, who will resume care until Mr. Parker is of age and can take responsibility of himself. This document is signed and approved by both adult parties and, should the situation arise, allow for temporary guardianship until a date can be set up with the New York Family Court and Mr. Stark is approved by the court as a legal guardian to Mr. Parker. This request is approved and verified by both parties as evident of the signatures of both parties present below._

Underneath the text: The flowing signature of May Parker, the approval of the action signed off on with no hesitation in the swooping cursive, steady and certain. To the right of hers was his own, the meticulously practiced lettering looking for all the world as unsure as he felt now, looking back on it.

Years of talk about how he would never be a good father and now-- now that the situation called for it-- he was still steadfast on his beliefs. He didn’t want to mess this up, he cared too damn much about that kid, about his well-being, to even consider how bad the situation could end up if left in his hands. His inexperienced, poor influence hands. Jesus, he had seen enough evidence of what an uncaring parent could do, and it shook him to the core, the phantom pain of repressed memories sparking pain in old scars that he had fought tooth and nail to forget about.

Tony Stark was not a man who was often scared. After all, he had faced death with unwavering resignation too many times to count, fought off numerous worldly and otherworldly enemies, survived multiple open heart surgeries. He had looked death itself dead in the eyes and taunted it, and felt no regret. 

But right now? Right now, he was fucking terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three things:  
> 1) May doesn't have a middle name???? So I just fuckin???? Picked a name???? Deal with it bc it's almost midnight here and I'm Not In The Mood™
> 
> 2) Do I know jackshit about legality and guardianship papers??? No. No I do not. (*I will in a few years, but right now I know nothing.) Should you take the 'paper' with a grain of salt??? Yes. Yes you should. Hopefully it sounded pretty fancy tho so whatever.
> 
> 3) I honestly feel like such an asshole for not updating for so long??? Like holy fuck I am so sorry my dudes. Is there anyone still reading this mess???? Idk man idk.
> 
> I WILL SAY IT AGAIN: COMMENTS AND KUDOS ARE AMAZING AND THEY KEEP ME WRITING. I LOVE ALL OF YOU. <33333
> 
> (I promise I'll update sooner this time! Pester me on my tumblr @ https://thesmollestgay.tumblr.com)


	4. Chapter 4: Reaching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm??? Alive???? 
> 
> Hey. Sup. 
> 
> New chapter! Yay! It's pretty Tony-centric this time so... fun? Bucky!!!!! My poor son who I love so much, he doesn't deserve my shitty characterization of him honestly. My poor babies.... I'm so sorry in advance...
> 
> ALSO I KNOW I KEEP PROMISING THE TEAM BUT I CARE TOO MUCH ABT TONY NEXT CHAPTER I _P R O M I S E_.

“Peter, sweetheart, it’s time to wake up,”

Keeping himself covered with the blanket, the teen let a groan fall out as he rolled over, purposefully shutting his eyes tighter and mumbling.

“Peeeeetey. Wake up, you’re making me jealous,”

“Five more minutes Aunt May,” Another unamused noise left him as he was met with a scoff, “Please? I’m super tired.”

A sigh from the voice above him, and yup, that was definitely an eye roll paired with it, he didn’t even have to see it to know, “Come on now. You know damn well that you already promised me this.”

Another grumble and Peter frowned, feeling odd but unable to pinpoint the feeling’s origins.

“Peter. Wake up. You can’t keep dreaming. You’ve got to wake up.”

A part of him screamed for him not to open his eyes, telling him he could keep them shut, continue listening to a voice that--

A voice that couldn’t be real.

He opened them with a sob, his vision already blurred at the edges from the water pooling in his eyes.

She wasn’t here. May was… May was gone and Peter was alone. Peter was alone and he knew-- he _knew_ it was his fault. Because he didn’t do better, didn’t protect her better, didn’t _save_ her when he should’ve.

His whole body shook with the sobs now, hands shaking as he curled into himself, head falling into his open palms as the tears dripped down the contours of his face. He was alone. There was no one left and he was scared and alone and-and-and--

“Peter. Kid, do me a favor and breathe. Come on, _breathe_ , deep breaths.”

A gentle hand took his wrist and guided his palm to a chest, the steady in and out setting an example for him to follow.

Still: she was there- she was- her voice was right. There. How could he breathe when she couldn’t anymore, how could he keep going on and not have her by his side? He didn’t-he couldn’t-

“Kid- Peter- you need to calm down and breathe, you’re- you’re worrying me. Just focus on my breathing and copy that, okay? Just listen to me and take some breaths.”

The hitching in his breaths slowly lessened in frequency, as Peter regained control of his lungs, opening his eyes cautiously to see a very worried looking Tony.

“You okay kiddo? Able to breathe again?”

“Yeah I,” He choked down another short gasp, “Yeah I’m fine. I’m good. Thank you.”

The older man’s brows furrowed in concern, brown eyes searching his, “You’re sure? Do you want to talk about it?”

Peter’s breath caught on an inhale and the backtrack was shockingly quick, “You don’t have to! It’s fine, you don’t- that’s up to you. I just wanted to make sure you were alright, that you were going to be okay. Yeah? You good Pete?”

“No it’s— it’s fine, Mr Stark. You’re fine. Thank you again, it was just… dumb. It was stupid, sorry to bother you with my problems—“

“Look at me,” His hand reached out for him as he looked away, settling on his shoulder, “Peter, look at me for a second.”

Hesitantly, his eyes just barely met his, their normal light dulled as he glanced up through his lashes, barely even opening them. The light glinted off of the remains of tears still on the tips of his eyelashes, clumping them together and gathering at the edge.

Tony bit back an instinct to pull him close and wipe away the tears and continued with a soft, “It’s not dumb. Not stupid. Whether you like it or not kid, I’ve grown a liking to you, and- and the stuff that upsets you? Hurts you? That’s my job to help with. To try and fix. You don’t have to tell me what that was about, but don’t,” his own voice caught, “Don’t think having emotions- reacting like a normal human being is wrong or- or _stupid_ in any way, alright?”

“... okay. Yes sir.” A small sigh escaped him as his fingers gently worried the sheets, clenching the fabric into a ball before letting it go and smoothing it out.

“Sir? Kid, you’re making me feel old again,” Alright, that achieved a small, barely noticeable chuckle. That was an achievement even if it was quickly cut off. He sighed and eased his kid’s— _Peter’s_ — hand away from the cloth, “Alright bud. Pepper wants to see you. Wanted to talk to you for a bit. She’s… well, she’s better with this kind of stuff than I am, and she wanted to check in on you. Is that okay?”

As he spoke his eyes flitted over the kid, checking for any signs of disagreement or discomfort and assuring himself that everything was going to be fine for now.

The sharp nod he got in response was probably the best he was going to get, and he knew that. A ruffle of his kid’s— _Peter’s_ — hair and Tony stood to leave, hand on the door before the small voice broke through the silence.

“Mr Stark?”

“Mm?” He threw off an air of nonchalance, but his heart beat fast, worry clawing its way back to the surface once again.

“For uh… for what it’s worth? I don’t- I don’t think you’re bad with this stuff, just… you doubt yourself too much… don’t take your own advice enough to believe what you say yourself sometimes.”

“Thanks kid. Seriously. Makes me feel like I’m not being entirely useless right now. Just- just tell FRIDAY if you need me, I’ll come. Promise.” 

And he knew he would. He always would for his kid. That was a promise he could keep.

 

Pepper gave him a small but empathetic smile as she passed by him to Peter’s room, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead as she walked by,

“It’s going to be okay Tony. It’s going to work out.”

“Yeah,” he forced a grin of his own, “Yeah, I know. It’s going to be fine. Go assure the kid though. Let him know what he needs to know.”

She nodded, “I will. Discuss with the team while I talk to him, I’ll text you about anything that’s important.”

He nodded and waved her off before noticing that his hand was shaking again, and he couldn’t help but entertain the thought that he should probably get it checked out. The damage seemed to either come in a rush or not at all, he noted while looking over his unsteady limb with a sort of scrutiny and disdain that only he could muster. The constant ache from it didn’t help either, particularly not when any sort of stressor worsened it and left him clutching his wrist with his right hand, rubbing it as he willed for it to stop. Not to mention, the current situation wasn’t helping at all. 

Not the worst persistent injury he’d had— he nearly scoffed at the notion— but one of the few that he would consider almost entirely his own damn fault.

He stood for all of a minute in silence before turning and walking back to his room for pain medication before he continued his day, something to ease his mind a bit.

But lo and behold, the universe had other plans. About halfway to his room, he remembered that he had last left what he needed in his workshop. With a groan and a rub of his face, he once again turned on his heel, now towards the elevator.

His phone was pulled out as he walked in, scrolling through emails and texts with his lawyers. Shooting back a few of his own, he didn’t notice the elevator had stopped until he was jarred out of his thoughts.

“What’s wrong, Stark?”

He glanced up at the familiar voice, its low rumble shifting his attention towards it without his consent. His mouth, luckily, moved faster than his brain when he needed it to most.

“Hm? Oh, Barnes, nothing,” he scanned the man in front of him wearily, noting his pulled up hair and casual outfit, “Nothing’s wrong, everything’s fine on my end. You’re good? The arm still working well?”

Bucky raised a single eyebrow, not caught off guard in the slightest, “Works like a charm. Thanks for that. Was just wondering though, figured since you called the meeting that there was something you needed to talk about with the team. Wanted to be sure you were doing alright.”

“Yeah well, you know me, the epitome of alright. Honestly, just the shining example of fine in every sense of the word--”

His other eyebrow lifted to meet the other as he cut him off, “Do you plan to ever stop spouting bullshit or are you actually going to tell me what’s wrong? Or do I have to wait to find out with everyone else? Because you’re obviously upset right now, and I’d rather help now than later.”

Tony could feel his jaw clench in an automatic response of frustration at the situation, at having to talk about _feelings_ with Ice Queen of all people, at the realization that he was about to go into a situation where, god help him, he needed a game plan. 

So, in his typical fashion he did what he did best: Pushed people away.

“Drop it, Frosty.”

“Fine, have it your way,” Bucky shrugged and was met with a startled glance as the billionaire's eyes darted away from his phone and to him, “What? I’m not going to push it. What’s the point?”

“I-” He cut himself off and glanced away again, directing his vision back to his screen and trying to smooth out his furrowed brows to regain a semblance of composure, “Thanks.”

“Sure. Better question then,” And there it was, the moment he’d been waiting for, the prying question that he expected from the start--,”Your arm, is it okay? Have you gotten it checked out yet?”

“...What?”

“It’s just, I’ve noticed it shaking lately and it looks like it can get painful sometimes, I wanted to make sure everything was alright, that you didn’t damage it and forget to get it checked out after a fight.”

Oh no, he didn’t _forget_ to get it checked out, he got it checked out and then decided to go one on two with supersoldiers after getting cars chucked onto it and followed it up with a fun little vacation in a practically destroyed suit in the freezing cold of Siberia. It was absolutely, positively _not_ alright--

“No that’s not-- It’s fine. Minor nerve damage. I’m working on it. Don’t stress about it, Barnes, I’ll fix it, always do,” Is what he said instead though, because how do you tell someone who you’re just starting to get along with that it’s likely permanent damage as a result of what was essentially the messiest divorce the Earth had ever seen? How do you say that you made it worse because you fought with the damaged arm in a fight against him and his best friend? How could the subject even be encroached in a reasonable or calm way at all without throwing guilt?

There wasn’t a way. And maybe they both knew that, because nothing else was said throughout the rest of the elevator ride, and because the silence stuck even when Bucky walked out and Tony remained on a course to his workshop.

 

The lights slowly flickered on as he stepped in, eyes scanning the desks in search of the pills that he had started to keep by him at all times by this point. He flexed his hand again, trying to pull the tendons in his fingers taut before relaxing them, curling them into a fist, then splaying his fingers out and slowly letting them return to a normal position. 

_In, out, relax, repeat._

“Come on,” He started to mutter to himself as he walked slowly from table to table, raking his gaze over each and ultimately finding nothing, “Know I left it here somewhere,”

_In_ (hurts him) _, out_ (pains him) _, relax_ (ails him) _, repeat_ ( _angers_ him).

He’s about to ask FRIDAY when he feels a poke at his back, firm but not harsh, persistent but not annoying, only startling him for a second. Turning, he locks eyes with the metal claw reaching towards him, pill bottle grasped carefully inside of it. He can’t help a chuckle at the gesture by his ‘bot as he reaches out to grab it, simultaneously patting DUM-E and letting a grin split his face as he beeps victoriously and twirls in circles in a sort of victory dance.

“Yes, yes, you did good DUM-E. Thank you very much. That’s exactly what I was looking for, congratulations. You did it.”

Another chirp, from his right this time, and there’s U, making sure to hold out a bottle of water for him to take the medication with and slowly rolling closer every second that Tony doesn’t grab the water from him, becoming more persistent in an attempt to help out in some way.

“You too, U. Good boy. I’ll make sure to get you two a new toy to play with as thanks, sound good?” He shakes out a few pills, not even bothering to count them as he pops open the seal on the water bottle, swallowing down the two? Three? Capsules and enjoying the excited noises coming from the ‘bots. If anything, it distracts him from the imminent conversation with the team that’s not truly a team. A group of so-called heros, clumped together by shared facades and lies. A truth (Does such a thing even exist anymore after so much betrayal, Tony wonders?) that the public will never see.

He shakes his head in an attempt to clear it-- _from the cold, seeping in through a dysfunctional suit, from the steel in those blue eyes as glass shattered, from the lies and the pain and the hurt and **so was I**_

Stop, Tony. Breathe, Tony. Does it matter, Tony? You know it’s all your fault anyways, Tony.

His vision blurs and whites out for a second, the pounding only stopping when the crescent moons of his nails dig themselves into his left palm.

In.  
Out.  
Relax.  
Repeat.

_Repeat._

_**Repeat.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY. Yell at me on my tumblr@ www.thesmollestgay.tumblr.com
> 
> Scream, cry, rant in the comments, do as you so wish, but be sure to leave Kudos and subscribe so that you can know when this hoe decides to update at random times for no reason!
> 
> PS: I'm so sorry again guys. Between work and vacation and moving, I've been swamped. Not to mention I'm having SEVERE A:IW feels. Forgive me?


End file.
